


Ride the Wind

by justheretobreakthings



Series: Every Month Is Gen-uary When You Believe [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Young Keith (Voltron) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretobreakthings/pseuds/justheretobreakthings
Summary: Keith’s dad takes him on his very first hoverbike ride.





	Ride the Wind

“We’re having pancakes?” Keith asked, pausing to lean his head through the railing of the staircase as he bounded down them and sniff at his dad’s breakfast.

“Nope,” his dad answered, moving a finished pancake from the skillet over the stove and onto a plate. “Pancakes are for city folk.  _We_  are havin’  _flapjacks_.”

“What’s the difference?” Keith asked.

“Simple: flapjacks are better.” His dad grinned. “You gonna eat some, or would you rather just smell ‘em from the stairs?”

“I’ll eat some!” Keith said. He hurried down the stairs and clambered up onto one of the stools beside the kitchen counter, hungrily eyeing the plate that his dad laid in front of him. The instant his dad passed him a fork, he was digging into the breakfast. “How come you made pancakes?” he asked through a mouthful.

“Don’t talk when your mouth is full,” his dad replied.

Keith swallowed his bite before retorting, “ _You_  do it.”

“Not when I know you’re watchin’ I don’t,” his dad said. “And I dunno, I just wanted to. We got the day together today, kiddo, may as well carb up and getting our energy up for it, right?”

“What’s ‘carb up’ mean?”

“It means eat flapjacks. Keep carbin’ up.”

“Okay,” Keith said. He let his legs swing contentedly beneath his stool as he returned his focus to his breakfast, and his dad pulled up to the stool beside him with a stack of pancakes three times as high as Keith’s and did the same.

When they were both nearing the end of their plates, Keith spoke up again. “Can we go to the libary today?”

“Library,” his dad corrected him. “And not today, no.”

“Why?”

“Because I got things planned here at home. Besides, we just took a trip into town two days ago.”

“Yeah, but that one was boring,” Keith groaned. “You were just in that one store the whole time.”

“Well, that’s because I was gettin’ somethin’ important.”

“What?”

“A present,” his dad replied nonchalantly.

“For who?”

“For you.”

Keith instantly perked up at that, wide eyes swinging to stare at his dad’s face as the man idly chewed his breakfast. “For me?”

“Mm-hm.”

“But it’s not my birthday.”

“Aw, shoot, you’re right. My bad. Welp, guess I’m just gonna have to take it back to the store, then.”

“Wait, no, no, don’t do that!” Keith cried, throwing his hands up and rapidly shaking his head.

“You sure?” his dad asked.

“Yeah!”

“Hm.” His dad furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin for a second as if in deep thought, then shrugged. “All right, I’m in a good mood. Guess I’ll give it to you anyway.” He stood from his chair, stretched, and picked up his own plate and then Keith’s to take to the sink.

“Where’s the present?” Keith asked, sliding off of his own stool.

“Hold your horses, kid,” his dad answer, and Keith stood impatiently fidgeting while his dad washed up. Once the faucet was finally turned off after what felt to Keith like hours, his dad gestured for him to follow.

They made their way outside and into the work shed, where his dad approached a high shelf and brought down a big and bulging paper bag stamped with a ‘Mike’s Motorsport Services’ logo. He handed the bag to Keith with a hint of a smile, and Keith pulled from the bag child-sized pairs of goggles and leather gloves. “What are these for?” he asked, tilting his head as he examined them.

“Well,” his dad said, “Remember when I told you that you could start takin’ rides on the hoverbike with me once your legs were long enough to reach the passenger pedals?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Seems you been growin’ awful fast over the past few months.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “Wait, I - I’m gonna get to ride on the hoverbike?!”

“If you wanna.”

“Yes, yes, I wanna, I wanna ride it!” Keith cried, bouncing on his toes in his excitement. He could scarcely believe it. All his life he had admired his dad’s bike deeply, always eager to help him polish it or watch him give the occasional demonstration of its speed and handling, but he had never gotten to experience it as a rider. Whenever they drove into town, they always took the pickup truck, so the closest Keith had gotten to imitating the sensation was rolling down the window.

His dad pulled his own riding jacket and a somewhat dusty passenger harness from another shelf before he led him back out and over to where the bike was kept parked, and he eased the tarp off to unveil it. Keith eagerly pulled his new gloves onto his hands and goggles over his head as his dad pulled on his jacket and harness. “Need help?” his dad asked as Keith fumbled with the strap in his excitement. He nodded, and within seconds the goggles on and he was ready to ride.

“Okay,” his dad said as he hauled Keith up onto the seat of the bike. He sat down in front of him and reached his arms back to situate Keith into the harness. “You see the pedals down by your legs? You gotta go ahead and get your feet in them.”

Keith hastily complied as his dad continued, “We got the passenger handlebars here and here - ” He pointed them out. “ - but if you feel like they’re stretchin’ your arms out too much, my jacket’s got a couple handhold loops in them, so you can grab those. You gotta hold on tight, all right?”

“All right,” Keith said. “We gonna go?”

“Rules first. Stay leanin’ forward into my back, don’t want you to go flyin’ while we turn. And if you feel like you’re slippin’ or like we’re goin’ too fast, you just holler for me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Keith blew a dry raspberry. “There’s no such thing as too fast,” he said.

His dad laughed. “Okay, kid, if you’re sure. You ready?” At Keith’s nod, his dad faced forward and started the ignition. Butterflies erupted in Keith’s stomach as the lifted off the ground and hovered in place, the hum of the bike surrounding him like a purr.

“All right,” his dad called from in front of him. “Let’s get this baby movin’!”

And they were off. They started slow as they moved away from the house, and for half a moment Keith was almost disappointed - people could go this fast on  _regular_  bicycles if they wanted - but before he had time to even consider pouting over it, they were gaining speed, and he tightened his grip on the loops at his dad’s waist and peered over his shoulder to watch their house shrink into the distance.

They drifted along cliffsides and zigzagged through brush, the wind roaring in Keith’s ears as his unruly hair flapped around him, and he stared in awe at the desertscape rushing past him, sometimes straining to see over his dad’s shoulder and watch as they seemed to approach cliff walls as if ready to crash, only to start careening parallel to them, leaving a storm’s worth of dust in their wake.

He whooped as the hoverbike made a particularly steep drop and they faced a wide, flat stretch of sand before them. “Okay, Keith,” his dad called over his shoulder. “Are you ready to go  _fast?_ ”

Keith’s eyes widened; he had been certain that they were already going fast, but if there were a faster option his dad still had yet to show him, then he would settle for nothing less. “I’m ready!” he shouted, steeling his hands and feet in the pedals and handholds.

“Here we go!” Again they started off a little slower, but gradually the bike gained speed, the hum of its engine growing higher in pitch, Keith’s starting to sting from the force with which his hair whipped at it. The surrounding desert blurred as they sped across it, and Keith’s insides rolled with exuberation, energy growing along with the bike’s speed.

At one point, they were moving so fast that Keith could have sworn they weren’t even hovering anymore; they had to have been  _flying_.

His dad eventually slowed when the stretch of desert ended in a dropoff, and he made a wide turn to start riding along the cliff’s edge instead. “Jump the cliff!” Keith shouted, undeterred by the slowing.

He could feel his dad bounce with a quiet laugh. “Not happenin’, Keith,” he answered.

“Why not?!”

“‘Cause your dad ain’t an idiot!”

“He can be sometimes!”

Another laugh. “How did I manage to raise you into such a brat?!” he shouted back. Keith just smiled and gave his dad a squeeze before laying his head against his back and watching the desert fly by.

It wasn’t long before they turned around and started racing back toward the house, and the wind and blurring desertscape and mechanical hum were almost starting to grow relaxing, to the point that when they did finally slow to a stop beside the shed, he was reluctant to let go and climb down from the bike.

“So,” his dad said once his feet had hit solid ground again. “What did you think of your first hoverbike ride?”

“It was awesome!” Keith cried. “Can we do that again later? Can we do it every day?”

“Now, not  _everyday_ ,” his dad answered. “This bike here is a little bit of a fixer-upper, don’t wanna overwork her.”

“It was so  _fast_ ,” Keith said, gazing at the bike in awe. “I bet you could ride it anywhere and get there in no time.”

“Well, it’d sure be fun to try.”

“I bet you could ride it all the way to outer space.”

His dad laughed. “Might be a stretch, but if anyone could pull it off…”

“Hey, dad?” Keith asked as they turned to start toward the house again. “Next time we take the hoverbike, can I drive?”

“Absolutely not,” his dad said.

“Aww,” Keith whined. “Why not?”

“Because you ain’t old enough, kid. You gotta be sixteen before you can start drivin’ a hoverbike. So you still got near ten years to wait.”

“Ten years?!” Keith repeated. “That’s forever!”

“Eh, it ain’t that long a wait. And in the meantime, you still like bein’ my passenger, right?”

Keith smiled up at him as they entered the house. “Sure do!” he answered.

“In any case, I promise you the very moment you turn sixteen, I’m gonna teach you how to be the best hoverbiker the world’s ever seen.”

“You mean it?”

“‘Course I mean it, when has your old man ever made a promise he didn’t keep?” He stretched, pulled off his jacket, and dropped onto the sofa in the front room. “Now you go ahead and wash up, you’re so dusty I can barely see you.”

“You’re dusty too,” Keith pointed out.

“Grown-ups are allowed to be dusty,” his dad retorted. “Go on and wash.”

“Okay,” Keith said. He started toward the stairs, then paused, and turned hurry back toward his dad and tackle-hug him around the legs. “Thanks for my present, dad.”

“You’re welcome,” his dad answered, ruffling his hair. “And as much as I enjoy a hug, since when did that count as washin’?” Keith giggled and rushed to bound up the stairs, avoiding a playful swat to the head from his dad as he left.

**Author's Note:**

> [I tumble.](http://justheretobreakthings.tumblr.com)


End file.
